


The Bench

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Coming In Pants, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:50:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: Bologna : Juventus, 0 : 2.





	The Bench

"Well?"

It's not even a question but just from the way Cristiano's eyebrows arch as he gives him _that_ look, Paulo understands what's it all about.

"It's good," he mumbled shifting a little in his seat as if to prove he's okay.

Even with _that thing_ inside his pants,

Well, more like - _inside him_.

"Don't fight it," Cristiano reminds him, reaching in the pocket of his Juve jacket. "Okay?"

It's really hard to keep his eyes on the game when with the corner of his eye, Paulo can see the phone in Ronaldo's hand and he shivers even before he can actually feel anything - 

He gasps and grabs Cris' thigh unintentionally as soon as the first, light, hardly noticeable vibrations start. He wants to say something, moan, show Cris how much this turns him on, though it's just the beginning, he can't let out a single word. It's hardly the fifth minute of the match, everyone's still focused, everyone's on their feet around them.

He can't just gasp out loud, pant and moan, he can't, he can't. _He can't._ He squeezed Ronaldo's thigh harder, biting his lip.

"Good?" Cris asks, watching him carefully.

He can't really speak in fear of being too loud, incoherent or simply of somebody hearing the words he wishes to say - _fuck yes, yes, oh God, yes, more_ - 

"Such a good boy," Cristiano praises him, lifting his lip corner a little. "Do you need more? I bet it's not enough now, am I right? You're used to much bigger _things_ \- "

 Cris and his good old egoism. Paulo tries to laugh, but with his lip still trapped between his teeth, it sounds more like a muffled scream.

"You could take so much more, baby - " 

 _Oh God_ , he can feel the change of the style of vibrations. 

It's so hard not to cry.

Ronaldo doesn't even wait, he just changes the programme or whatsoever is that shit on his phone that sends signals to the remote-controlled object inside Paulo.

It's hard to even keep eyes open.

"Baby, Paulo, calm down - everyone's looking at you."

It wasn't much positive information, really; Paulo would give the world for just being able to disappear now. Why did he always agree to all this stuff, why was he so dumb to say 'yes' - 

The pleasure. The pleasure was immense. He was sitting on the bench, supposedly watching his friends play against Bologna, with CR7 next to him, and yet, at that moment, he was balancing somewhere between sanity and madness.

"They're probably wondering - _what's going on? Is Paulo sick or what? Why does he make such faces_? - " Cristiano smiled, happy with the process. He set up the pace higher, and feeling how Paulo's body just jerked and got tense, he put the phone down and took his jacket that was so far spread on his knees, and he pulled it higher, high enough to hide his hands and thighs, and most importantly, the same with Paulo, from any intruder's sight.

"And they don't know how hard you are, sitting here, watching them play - open your eyes, Paulito, they're watching you - "

"No - " That's all he can breathe out. The curiosity is stronger than him and he overcomes his embarrassment and opens his eyes just to see that Cristiano was actually lying, nobody gives a damn about him and his grimaces. "Fucking liar - " he gasped as quietly as he could.

"Careful with that language, baby, or I'll have to punish you."

"Fuck!" This time, people actually turn their heads to look at him, and he tries to keep his lips sealed and not let out a single word, though the pain and frustration are rising. " _Fuck_ \- " he pants again, quiet this time, and it's the only word he can think of through the haze of painful pleasure.

"Sssh, baby - " Cristiano mumbles, and though his voice is smooth and soothing, his hand mercilessly taps on the phone and he increases the pace again. "We're almost there."

Paulo just nods, unable to speak in a decent and quiet voice by now.

"God, I wish I could do this to you when you're playing - make you lose all the concentration at once."

Dybala whined through his gritted teeth.

"What's that baby? Need more? Is my baby horny? I know you've been waiting for three days, honey - don't worry. I've got you - "

_The last possible mode. The worst possible pain._

The pain of just wanting to roll on the grass, scream and maybe kick, pull Cristiano close and kiss him hungrily, make their limbs entangles, thrust against him, grind on his beautiful body - he couldn't do any of that.

His heartbeat is insane and he really should work on his breathing - he somehow forgot how to do that. 

 "I'll fuck you so hard when we come back at the hotel - " 

"Hold me - please - " Paulo gasps breathlessly, his hand in a desperate search for Cris'. "Please, Cris - hold me - " The way he begs makes him sound so vulnerable as if he was about to lose it in that very moment. Cristiano is not heartless, he knows well what his boy needs. 

"That's it - that's it, good boy, baby - " he assures him, holding his hand. The way Paulo squeezes him in short intervals, copying the spasms in his whole body, is enough of a proof that Paulo Dybala, Juventus' star striker, has just come in his shorts. 

With his free hand, Cristiano turned the programme off but Paulo was still trembling.

"You better hope you won't be subbed on tonight."


End file.
